Saturday Mornings
by coeurgryffondor
Summary: His husband thinks the soccer moms hitting on him is hilarious. Lukas thinks differently. / SuNor, Frejaverse.


Author's note: Frejaverse. SuNor because **ducere** wanted soccer (football) moms hitting on the Swedish dad, and so how could I ever say no? ;D

* * *

**Saturday Mornings**

Lukas is not amused.

Peter is amused; he finds the whole thing hysterical. He has the gall to come back from football practice howling, arm in arm with his father, teasing the older man in English. Then he hugs Freja, says hi to Lukas, and heads off for the shower still grinning.

Freja is amused; Freja doesn't even know what she's amused over, the three-year-old clinging to her one father's leg before the other throws his son's bag down, lifting her high into the air to litter her face with kisses before kissing his husband. Freja giggles and is sent off to play with Tessan in the yard, the little dog yipping happily.

And Berwald is most definitely amused, leaning against the counter as Lukas finishes washing up, watching their daughter out the window. He sighs happily, letting his hand rest on the small of Lukas's back in an intimate way the Norwegian really does love.

Only he is still not amused.

"It's not funny," he complains, throwing his wet towel at his husband to try and walk away in a huff. Only those arms are stronger than he ever was, pulling him back slowly until he's pressed flush against the Swedish body, Berwald breathing heavily into his ear, his face hidden from Lukas's view.

"It's a little bit funny."

"Every weekend."

"They don't learn."

"Have they never bothered to ask?" He feels his husband shrug.

"They only ever want to know about me and Pelle."

"Oh, what? So you don't tell the women hitting on you that you're married to a man?" Lips kiss his ear.

"I'm keeping you a surprise beloved."

Lukas makes to turn his head, starting, "Surprise for what?" but his words are cut off when lips crash against his. Today he drops the subject.

* * *

All week Lukas has been feeling under the weather, an honest-to-God cold that makes him shiver and feel groggy and be a point of laughter for his husband. And since Lukas still hadn't felt well this morning, Berwald had taken Freja along with him to Peter's football game, Lukas left alone in the big bed. He's glad today he agreed to having a television in the room so they could watch the news in the morning; he's also glad he'd set up camp on the Swede's side of the bed since that was where the remote had been hiding.

A little later than normal the Norwegian nation hears his family return home, laughter coming from the main room before his bedroom door is open.

"Hi Lukas!" Peter grins, Freja squeezing under her brother's legs to run into the master room and begin attempting to climb up the bed. "Oh, sorry! Should I take her out?" His step-father shakes his head.

"Leave her, it's fine." Freja is now jumping. "How was the game?"

"We won," the micronation half-sings before someone says something behind him and he heads off for his shower. That's when Berwald enters the room with a plate of eggs and a cup of coffee.

"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" Lukas sighs at the sight, his husband putting both things down on the small table before sitting and kissing him deeply, stealing Lukas's already-wheezy breath away. "You'll get sick if you keep doing that." The Swedish kingdom shrugs.

"Worth it," he assures him before rising to finally assist Freja, lifting her high so that she can crawl across the bed and hide under her father's arm. "We'll talk later," Berwald mouthes before bowing out.

* * *

"How'd they react to Freja?" Lukas asks as his husband holds him.

"Like she was the first little girl they've ever seen," Berwald laughs quietly. "I'm afraid to say I think they're more in love with me now than before." The Norwegian rolls his eyes.

"You still haven't told them?"

"I wasn't paying attention today and when one of them asked if she's my daughter I just sort of said how I had loved her mother and when that woman died giving birth, I adopted Freja as my own." Berwald shrugs. "Which is how we came to have the first Freja, and thus this one."

"Any of them volunteered yet to be Peter and Freja's new mummy?"

"I think they were discussing who should leave their husband to do it. I've never felt so wanted in my life," the man chuckles and so Lukas punches his arm.

* * *

One of the hottest weekends of the summer and one of the mothers suggests they all take their families out to the beach.

"Beach!" Freja screams at the kitchen table, shaking her brother's arm. "Beach, beach!"

"Freja," her fathers warn in union. The little girl giggles happily before returning to dinner.

"It will be fun," Berwald tries and when Lukas gives him a look of, I don't have fun, the Swede sighs.

"Freja will have fun," Peter volunteers. Sometimes, the Norwegian thinks, the boy is better at coaxing him into doing things than his own husband is.

"Daddy can take me swimming!" Freja nods vehemently at the prospect.

Deep indigo eyes fall back on Berwald and his lop-sided grin as he takes in his children. When Lukas gives him a look of, anything else?, the man has a clearly visible eureka moment.

"You can get your revenge," the man says in Old Norse.

"Revenge for what?" Berwald only smiles seductively at him, pulling his spoon slowly out from between his lips.

"Can we stop it with the goo-goo eyes?" Peter protests. "Some of us are still trying to eat."

* * *

That night Berwald gets him, pulling Lukas down onto the bed and using his weight to restrain the smaller nation beneath him. His breath is hot on Lukas's ear as he grinds his hips against his husband's ass, whispering, "I can't wait to see their faces when they see how perfect my husband is."

The Norwegian moans at both the idea and the feel of his husband.

* * *

Peter helps Lukas set everything up, Freja holding to her father's leg as Berwald talks to some of the women. At first they hadn't seemed to know what to think of Lukas, confused by his presence. When Peter had called him by his given name (as he always has), the women had visibly sighed, deciding he was no threat to their master plan of stealing away Berwald.

Looking up at his husband's back, the Norwegian can't say he blames them for falling for the man. Without trying he's incredibly handsome, broad shoulders, strong body, effortless grace. He's in just his swim trunks and clearly the women were loving it, one even licking her lips.

Lukas's eyes meet Peter's and they both shiver at once.

"Papa, I'm thirsty," Freja complains, pushing her face into her father's thigh. A hand on her head runs through her hair, the women all sighing adoringly at the sight.

"Go get some water then."

"Where?"

"Ask Daddy."

Two simple words. Two simple, innocent words. For five months now Lukas has had to put up with these women eyeing his husband, starting with when Peter was first signed up for football, through to the parent meetings and the practices and the games. Five months and with those two little words Lukas finds a sweet, sweet victory in watching their faces fall as Freja runs to him, handing his little princess a water bottle.

Peter throws his head towards the stunned women and Lukas takes his cue, walking forward to a proud-looking Berwald, feeling an arm wrap around his shoulders to bring him in even closer. "Ladies, I don't know if you've met my husband Lukas yet."

Oh yes, they were quite disappointed and Lukas loved it.

* * *

They play in the water, the two men with their little girl, Lukas holding Freja close until the waves get to tall and start to upset her. He walks her the water's edge where Peter is sitting, talking to one of his friends; immediately his sister parks herself between the two, giggling up at her brother.

"Shall I take her?" the Norwegian asks but Peter shakes his head, pulling his sister to his lap. Shrugging Lukas carries on back to their family's spot, feeling the eyes of all the women on him. Let them look, he thinks; Berwald may have been physically bigger but he still worked out too. The Norwegian kingdom felt smug about his body, feeling only smugger when his husband lays down beside him, wrapping him up in his arms to kiss passionately like they normally save for the bedroom.

One of the women actually groans, she's so upset.

* * *

Peter's first game and Berwald this time is sick, Lukas taking Freja with him. The boy tells him he doesn't have to wait and watch the way his father does but he wants to, enjoying the way the other players look up to Peter or how he moves with his father's grace as he goes to make a goal.

"Excuse me," one of the women says and turning Lukas sees the other mothers all watching him. "You're Berwald's husband, right? Luke was it?"

"Lukas," he corrects, sensing that she had flubbed his name on purpose.

"Lukas," she sighs. "Well, it's nice to see you at your son's game."

"Not my son," and the Norwegian gets an idea. "See, Berwald adopted Peter when he was still married to his first husband."

This time several of the women groan.

* * *

"You two are so bad," Peter whispers in the front seat of the car, Freja singing to herself in the back. The English micronation seems amazed by the thought.

"And we look so good doing it," Lukas quips and he smiles, making the English boy laugh as Freja claps in the back.


End file.
